Give the world the best you
have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway
Mother Teresa
And sometimes your best is an imitation of the best. Or at least that's what I learned this week. Because if you grew up, ummm, mumblety-mum years ago in the Northern regions of America one of the nicest things you could do for the people you loved was dish them up some city chicken.
It doesn't ride the subway or shop at Tiffany's. But it still manages to combine the ingredients that make food most interesting: history, creativity, frugality, humor and taste.
And love. And sprinkles. No, just kidding about the sprinkles.
Here's the story:
Once upon a time, because they liked excitement, smelly streets and finding jobs, people left their farms and made for themselves a vast metropolis. Having become city dwellers, they could no longer feed themselves with whatever plant or animal happened to be growing in the backyard, so they began importing their meat and vegetables from far away. Which was okay if you liked beef or pork, but flying so far from the coops made chicken, well,
It's true!! There was a time, long, long ago,
 |
| no, not that sort of city chicken. |
And love. And sprinkles. No, just kidding about the sprinkles.
Here's the story:
Once upon a time, because they liked excitement, smelly streets and finding jobs, people left their farms and made for themselves a vast metropolis. Having become city dwellers, they could no longer feed themselves with whatever plant or animal happened to be growing in the backyard, so they began importing their meat and vegetables from far away. Which was okay if you liked beef or pork, but flying so far from the coops made chicken, well,
 |
| Almost as rare as hen's teeth. |
 |
| in a galaxy far, far away........ |
when chicken was a luxury meat- more expensive than beef, or pork, or veal. Hard to imagine, isn't it? And that's the sort time and place when some frugal cook invented a way to pretend that she could afford to feed her family what she could not afford to feed her family. Like Mock Apple Pie or Mock Turtle Soup or Poor Man's Abalone, or yours truly on date night, City Chicken takes something pretty ordinary and gives it the glamour treatment. My friend Darlene has memories of making these pork kabobs at her home in Michigan, but it's Pittsburgh that lays special claim to and takes special pride in this chicken-that-is-not-chicken. This article at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette includes multiple variations on the theme; I combined a couple of them and ended up with a winner winner city chicken dinner.
Boneless pork (I used a super cheap tenderloin) was cut into cubes, threaded onto wooden skewers, breaded, browned, laid atop a bed of carrots and onions and (this was the freaky part) sloshed all over with gravy and baked. Not a speedy recipe, but the transformation of economy to luxury can't be rushed. (And yes, I'll be thinking that exact thing the next time it's taking me a little longer than I thought it would to get ready for a nice dinner out.) Besides. it was fun.And the home audience really, really liked them.
On the same food and fun filled Tuesday that Darlene told those gathered at my mother's house about city chicken, Linda told us about butter rolls, a dessert she remembers literally climbing mountains to get to. At least, to an elementary school child the uphill hike to the cafeteria seemed like climbing mountains. Linda told us the climb was scary but worth it- turns out that an ooey, gooey, warm and cinnamon dusted biscuity carb is all a kid (or a grownup) needs to transform
an uphill trudge
into
a cross country
sprint.
I tried them tonight, and all was made clear. "Butter rolls" are biscuit dough rolled out and spread with butter, then sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.
Here's my try:
The magic really happens in the next step, when bubbly hot sweetened milk is poured over the whole pan right before it hits the oven. And if biscuits cooking in a milk bath sounds unappetizing, then you (as I did) are forgetting some basic kitchen math:
Milk+ butter+ sugar+heat= caramel.
That's right. What you end up with are moist and tender really quick cinnamon caramel rolls. AKA, butter rolls. Linda, I'd climb a hill for them too.
And the chicken pies? I'm pretty sure that this is one thing I'll be doing with leftover chicken from now on. Wow! Leftover chicken, a little cream, some frozen vegetables, a square of puff pastry and an egg turned into this!
Better than expected is a thing I've been thinking a lot about in the last few days.
I've been thinking about luxuries real and pretended- about cakes and kabobs and the absurdities of love.
I hope that this week, whether you give and receive grand gestures or ordinary extravagances,
that you are able to relax into the giving and receiving of love.
And wonder with me if maybe this is the way we give ourselves to what and who we love:
paycheck by paycheck
plate by plate
word by word,
knowing that what we give is almost never the best there is-
and yet is often
Boneless pork (I used a super cheap tenderloin) was cut into cubes, threaded onto wooden skewers, breaded, browned, laid atop a bed of carrots and onions and (this was the freaky part) sloshed all over with gravy and baked. Not a speedy recipe, but the transformation of economy to luxury can't be rushed. (And yes, I'll be thinking that exact thing the next time it's taking me a little longer than I thought it would to get ready for a nice dinner out.) Besides. it was fun.And the home audience really, really liked them.
On the same food and fun filled Tuesday that Darlene told those gathered at my mother's house about city chicken, Linda told us about butter rolls, a dessert she remembers literally climbing mountains to get to. At least, to an elementary school child the uphill hike to the cafeteria seemed like climbing mountains. Linda told us the climb was scary but worth it- turns out that an ooey, gooey, warm and cinnamon dusted biscuity carb is all a kid (or a grownup) needs to transform
an uphill trudgeinto
a cross country
sprint.
I tried them tonight, and all was made clear. "Butter rolls" are biscuit dough rolled out and spread with butter, then sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.
Here's my try:
The magic really happens in the next step, when bubbly hot sweetened milk is poured over the whole pan right before it hits the oven. And if biscuits cooking in a milk bath sounds unappetizing, then you (as I did) are forgetting some basic kitchen math:
Milk+ butter+ sugar+heat= caramel.
That's right. What you end up with are moist and tender really quick cinnamon caramel rolls. AKA, butter rolls. Linda, I'd climb a hill for them too.
And the chicken pies? I'm pretty sure that this is one thing I'll be doing with leftover chicken from now on. Wow! Leftover chicken, a little cream, some frozen vegetables, a square of puff pastry and an egg turned into this!
 |
| Okay. Not quite as nice as the version at Snooze in Denver, but better than I'd expected. |
Better than expected is a thing I've been thinking a lot about in the last few days.
I've been thinking about luxuries real and pretended- about cakes and kabobs and the absurdities of love.
I hope that this week, whether you give and receive grand gestures or ordinary extravagances,
that you are able to relax into the giving and receiving of love.
And wonder with me if maybe this is the way we give ourselves to what and who we love:
paycheck by paycheck
plate by plate
word by word,
knowing that what we give is almost never the best there is-
and yet is often
 |
| the very best we have. |
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